Chapter 61: The Elder's Opinion (5K Chapter)
"You've stayed in the mountains long enough. It's time to come down."
Haze stepped toward Netero, his tone cold.
His legs sank slightly, tightening the fabric of his black suit pants.
At the same time, his aura surged outward, then suddenly contracted—forming a liquid-like "armor" that wrapped around his body.
"Oh?"
Netero's eyes sparkled with curiosity, as though he'd just discovered something interesting. He chuckled. "Let's see you crush me then!"
Haze's heart was filled with resolve, his gaze sharp as steel.
He raised one hand, bent the other at the elbow, and in the next instant—like a fully compressed spring—launched a ferocious punch straight at the old man before him.
Divine Fist!
His aura didn't just gather in his fists—it reinforced his entire body, preventing any counterattack. He lost no energy to waste; every bit of Nen increased the density and precision of his strike. His mastery of control was refined—and what's more, his aura now felt different than when he fought Biscuit…
Netero's thoughts shifted.
He raised his arms, blocking Haze's blow.
A dull boom echoed. The ground beneath them cracked wide open, spiderweb fractures spreading in every direction.
Shards of rock burst into the air—
Haze's trousers were instantly torn to shreds.
"Though it's a punching technique, the real power lies in the legs…"
The wind from their clash whipped Netero's silver-white hair wildly, his long sleeves flaring to reveal a thin, sinewy arm. His face remained calm, but his eyes carried a hint of caution as they tracked Haze's lower body movements.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
But—Haze's attack was even faster and fiercer than the elder had imagined!
After the first strike, countless shadowy fists rained down—each one as powerful as the last. Haze was going all out.
Netero crossed his arms defensively, blocking each strike. No matter how fast or heavy the blows, none pierced his guard.
Then, with a subtle shift, Netero's technique changed. One hand slipped between the barrage of fists, his fingers precisely catching Haze's wrist. Though his motion seemed slow, he moved before Haze could even react.
Just as he was about to grab hold—Haze's arm snapped back like lightning.
Netero's finger shot forward toward Haze's face—
—but his target vanished.
"Excellent agility," Netero murmured, narrowing his eyes.
From behind, a whip-like kick swung down, its black aura forming an enormous axe aimed at his neck.
It wasn't just martial arts—it was the perfect synchronization of timing and Nen release.
"Kids these days… no respect for their elders," the old man sighed, extending his arm like a clamp to seize Haze's ankle.
But Haze had already anticipated the move—his finger darted out like a needle, piercing the back of Netero's hand.
A sharp crack followed.
Both fighters leapt apart, landing ten meters away.
Netero's right sleeve was almost completely torn, the fabric sliced clean through like by scissors.
"Multiple martial arts styles… They don't belong to a single school," Netero observed, stroking his beard with a faint smile. "They sound familiar, but I've never seen them combined like that. Did you develop them yourself?"
In his youth, the old man had visited countless martial schools—his knowledge of martial arts was profound beyond measure.
He could discern the essence of most styles with a single glance, recognizing their lineage and technique. Despite countless evolutions over the years, all shared the same roots.
Each of Haze's techniques was lethal—refined through deep body training, honed to deadly precision. But unlike others, he had added his own insights, blending styles together to amplify both power and efficiency.
"Ha…"
Haze panted, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
He'd launched a storm of strikes, yet still couldn't expose a single flaw in Netero's defense.
Unlike Biscuit—whose strength was purely physical—the old man's depth in martial arts was terrifying. Even from the first punch, Haze realized Netero had already spotted the weakness in his technique.
Biscuit's advantage lay in raw power. Netero's strength, however, came from unmatched experience—centuries of combat mastery. He analyzed Haze's attacks the instant they appeared.
And while Haze's aura control was advanced, it still consumed mental and physical energy. Netero's, on the other hand, flowed effortlessly—like breathing.
Haze's eyes flicked to the elder's hand—the same one he'd just pierced. Not a single mark remained.
His aura defense was absolute.
It was hard to imagine how such an aged, frail-looking body contained such immense power.
"What's wrong?"
Netero tilted his head, cracking his neck. "Didn't you just tell me to come down from the mountain? Already losing heart?"
"Let's go."
The moment he said it, Haze's figure blurred—shattered into afterimages as deep craters formed across the ground.
Then—he appeared in front of Netero, striking once again.
"It's useless," said Netero with a smile. "If you can't reuse a move instantly…"
Before he finished, he noticed Haze's fist pause, then shift fluidly through several transitions.
Haze had absorbed the refined essence of every martial artist he'd met—combining their wisdom and form into his own growth and fighting spirit.
His fist pressed against Netero's abdomen, grazing the fabric—
"Ho ho ho…"
But in the next instant, the elder's palm closed around his fist and twisted gently. The skin on Haze's arm trembled violently, a shockwave of power forcing him to retreat and twist his torso to disperse the impact.
It threw him off balance—allowing Netero to strike his chest and send him flying several meters away.
"Phew… that was close. Almost got me," Netero said, wiping nonexistent sweat from his brow.
Haze said nothing.
He felt utterly powerless.
The man before him was flawless—physically, mentally, spiritually.
In body, martial arts, Nen mastery, and composure—
it was a crushing defeat.
But that was only natural. After all—this was Isaac Netero.
He hadn't expected to win… but the realization still stung.
He'd grown tremendously over the past year—and yet, the gap was still this vast.
"Just saying what I think," Haze muttered quietly. "Don't get offended, old man. You talk about respect, but you've never shown much care for the young either. Honestly, if this were anyone else, being hit by you like that might've broken their spirit completely."
"If you were that easy to break," Netero smiled, "I wouldn't have come to see you."
Haze's eyes flicked aside, then he inhaled deeply—long and powerful.
A white mist escaped his lips, a meter long, forming in the cold air.
A breathing technique.
"Hm?"
Netero stopped smiling, watching as Haze's body temperature surged—his blood seemed to boil.
Then, Haze moved—faster than ever before.
Even Netero's instincts screamed of danger.
His organs were working at full capacity, every system pushed to its limit. His thoughts sharpened, his energy roared.
Bang!
Netero leapt back instinctively—but Haze's speed matched him blow for blow. In midair, shadows of Haze's limbs blurred into a web of black strikes.
Netero's expression hardened, his hands and feet blocking every blow. The air thundered with the clash of flesh and will.
Then, at last—Haze's five fingers, sharp as blades, slipped through an opening and grazed the back of Netero's hand—leaving faint scratches despite his aura shield.
Netero's heart skipped. He readied a counterattack—
—but Haze suddenly slowed, breath shallow, and collapsed onto his back.
The old man landed gently on his clogs. "Can't hold out? In that state…"
"Ordinary people can only control their limbs. You—you're controlling your organs through breathing rhythm, aren't you?"
Netero's eyes gleamed.
This was rare—extremely rare. He'd theorized such a method himself, but never achieved a stable result. What Haze had done… bordered on creating an entirely new discipline.
It was directly tied to Chi itself.
And this young man—he had inherited something extraordinary.
"The human body is a treasure," Netero murmured. "And the inner body… is the hardest to master."
"…Had enough fun yet?"
Haze's chest heaved like a bellows as he stood, dusting off his jacket.
"Leaving already? Why not use your Nen for a while? Maybe you'll teach this old man a thing or two," teased Netero.
"No thanks. I'm not a masochist."
Haze's lips twitched. If Nen was involved, he wouldn't stand a chance. One slap from "Guanyin" would flatten him.
"Alright then…" the old man sighed, disappointed. "Want me to see you off?"
"…No."
Haze glanced back. "Suddenly, I don't feel like taking the Hunter Exam anymore. Maybe joining the Association isn't such a great idea."
Netero laughed awkwardly. "Heh heh… go rest. I'll see you at the Guild."
"Tch."
Haze shook his head and walked out of the wrecked hall.
Outside, alone at last, he clutched his chest in pain.
That old man's strike still burned. His breathing technique couldn't sustain a battle of that intensity—his body simply couldn't endure it.
Even now, his internal organs cramped painfully.
He'd need ten days—maybe half a month—to recover.
"Yeah… the gap's huge," he murmured, gazing toward Pavilion 3. "But at least… I've seen the peak of the mountain. It's not that far away."
He turned and left the park.
"Arrogant brat…"
Elsewhere, once Haze had gone, Netero flexed his slightly numb hands and sighed. "You can't deny age…"
He knew Haze had been holding back. But still—at only twenty, the kid had a limitless future.
His raw potential reminded Netero of someone from long ago—
though the two were very different in both path and temperament.
Glancing at his scratched hand and tattered clothes, Netero chuckled softly. "Can't let anyone see me like this…"
Beep, beep.
His phone buzzed. The caller ID read: Biscuit.
Of course.
"Hello, hello! President, how'd your 'meeting' go?" Biscuit's cheerful voice filled the line.
"Haha… he's gone," Netero replied with a laugh.
"So? Did you warn him? That brat's always so cocky—I knew he wouldn't take the preliminaries seriously…"
"Well… just as you said, he's quite extraordinary. But a guy like him doesn't scare easily. In fact, he gave me quite the surprise," Netero admitted.
"Huh?" Biscuit was taken aback.
She'd already briefed Netero on Haze's abilities—so for him to be surprised now meant the boy had exceeded even her expectations.
"His growth rate… it's beyond what you imagined," Netero said. "He's learned many martial arts—and that breathing technique… it's remarkable. His body's exceptional—trained to a level far beyond the average. He's strengthening not only his muscles and bones, but his inner systems too. Physically, he reminds me of my younger self."
"In terms of Nen, from what you told me, he's gotten much stronger—probably due to this last year of growth. His physical control surprised me the most. Still… while his understanding of Nen is deep, he hasn't grasped its true essence yet."
Netero paused.
"He's never fought truly on the edge of death. None of his battles have threatened his life. The true awakening of Nen only comes through facing death. He knows the path—but he hasn't walked it."
"Also, though his body's strong, his martial focus is too segmented. The flesh and blood should be one whole. He understands this—but he's young. He'll need time to grow into it."
"As for his Nen… he didn't use it this time," Netero added with a grin. "Still doesn't trust me, that cautious kid."
"At his age, few reach this level…"
"But what worries me most—" his tone grew firm, "—is his personality."
"His personality…" Biscuit echoed softly.
"He's smart. Too smart. Based on his time in the underworld, he's calculating, meticulous. It's what kept him alive among the Mafia's Ten Dons. But people like that—are guided only by their own will. For them, there's no good or evil. If given power, it could lead to light—or to darkness—depending solely on their mood."
Netero's words left Biscuit silent. She had noticed the same thing long ago.
"That kid reminds me of my rebellious son," Netero said quietly.
Biscuit held her breath.
"But they're not identical," he continued. "Both follow their own codes of conduct. Haze does have moral grounding… Once he sets a goal, he won't stop until he reaches it. Since he's motivated by gain, we should make his interests clear and guide him step by step."
"The problem is…" Netero's voice softened, "…no one can say how long he'll stay on the right path."
At the mention of Beyond Netero, the tone between them turned serious.
"Of course," he said, laughing again, "their similarities only go so far. Don't worry too much. That kid's a lone wolf—probably doesn't like groups. But if he never shoulders responsibility, he'll never truly grow. Sometimes… there are things more important than life itself—things that can awaken one's potential."
"That's why I want him to join the Association," Biscuit said firmly. "If he becomes a Hunter, forms his own team, maybe—just maybe—he'll change."
"Change, huh…" Netero nodded slowly. "Maybe."
He knew well—it was hard to change people like that.
He'd tried before. And failed.
(End of Chapter)